


Sweet Sorrow of a Sleepless Night

by GhostGumi



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Josie is only there in a mention, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 05:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4991227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostGumi/pseuds/GhostGumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian Is stressed and his mind wanders to a man he thinks loves someone else. Very short. Kinda sad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Sorrow of a Sleepless Night

**Author's Note:**

> Also known as: A virgin writes smut(?) for the first time, featuring Dorian Pavus. I used my inquisitor as reference, but no names, so no confusion! I hope. Kinda sad-ish. Put under mature for mention of sex and stuff, but not something you probably want to get off on. Like I said, virgin wrights smut.  
> Things are probably misspelled, I am dyslexic, I apologize .

Dorian lies sleepless in his corders. He’s anxious, like a weight on his chest. He turns from his side to his back, and stares up at the ceiling. The plain, beige, uneventful ceiling. He tries to remember Corypheus. Getting off an adrenaline rush always puts him to sleep. The lyrium growing out of his skin. The buildings raging in flame, leaving nothing but the smell of soot. The silhouette of a young man, he stands before the dragon. Brave, strong. Yet, he still cried when they sang. He thought no one noticed. Dorian has seen the scars on his back, like the marks caused by a whip. The way he cringes every time Leliana, or anyone else for that matter, touches his back. Dorian sighs. He thinks of the small smile that creeps onto his face when he looks at Josephine. He wonders what they do when they are alone. Although he wishes it wasn’t true (as he holds great respect for the man), but the straps around his waist have gotten tight.

Muttering something in Tevene, he hesitantly starts to untangle his belts. He slides his hand under his waistline and loosely grabs his cock. He thinks of Lavellan’s voice hitching as he rubs his thumb across the slit. He wonders which of the gods he swears to under his breath, but then prays to in the morning. If everytime after that, whenever he hears their name, if he thinks of getting pushed against the wall. Dorian finds a rhythm and starts mumbling Lavellan’s name. He wonders if his scars sting when sweat rolls over them. He wonders if he cares. If all he thinks about his stifling his voice, so they don’t hear him in the war room. Does the floor creak with the bed? Does he cry? Does he want to? Does he love her? Dorian tries to hold his rhythm, he wants to come, but all he sees is Lavellan. Alone, crying on his bed. Dorian turns onto his side. The bed soaked in nothing but pre-cum. He places his hands over his ears in some foolish attempt to block out the screams. He still didn’t get to sleep.

 

 


End file.
